


After the War

by WritingEverything



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Anger Management, Angst, Cannibalism, Corruption, Despair, Everyone Has Issues, Eye Trauma, F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Gen, Gun Violence, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Insanity, Loss of Limbs, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Machines, Mental Health Issues, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mind Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Moving On, Multi, Murder, Neo World Program (Dangan Ronpa), Other, Pain, Parent Death, Politics, Post-Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Recovered Memories, Recovery, Relationship Issues, Remnants of Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Self-Esteem Issues, Starvation, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers, Swearing, The Tragedy of Hope's Peak Academy, Torture, Trust Issues, Ultimate Despair (Dangan Ronpa)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-03-13 17:58:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18946018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingEverything/pseuds/WritingEverything
Summary: "We won, or we think we did.When you went away, you were just a kid.And if you lost it all, and you lost it,Well, we'll still be there when your war is over."- In Our Bedroom After the War, Stars~~~He's not even fully awake before his arms shoot out, heart racing, mind reeling back from what felt like a really long dream. But instead of open space, his hands collide with something resting straight above him.





	1. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I incorporated some of my own headcanons into this. I tried to base everything off of canon information, and only added my own ideas when I could find little to no info about something. Like why the heck they weren't suppose to die if they spent 50 days in the program, without food or water.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

It was like a black, endless sea, stretching out in every direction. No end in sight; no piece of land, no an island, not even a minuscule piece of dirt or sand or clay. It's just darkness. Everywhere.

And he's there. He's nothing. Not a mess of blood and bones. No skin and meat or veins or organs that make up his body. He lifts up his right leg, and he waits to see it come up in his peripheral vision, but it doesn't. No limb, no foot dangling.

He's nothing.

Not a person. Just thoughts, floating around in an empty space, belonging to no one. It's confusing and disorienting. He can't tell where the words flying around his head start or finish. Half of them seem like gibberish, parts of sentences split apart, and he just wants to reach out and grab them and force the words together. To make something that actually makes sense.

 _Error_.

_'Is something wrong?'_

And then suddenly, everything comes rushing back to him, crashing into his head at a force that makes him feel like he's dying. Hope's Peak, that project, Junko Enoshima, the Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History, their plan to bring _her_ back . . .  _everything_.

Oh god. 

What the hell . . ?

The things they did--

And then waking up on the island, with these people; people like him, who had brought the world down into despair. But instead, they were so  _kind_ , so full of hope. They became friends, and (unknowingly just as planned) the killing game began. Trusting each other, believing each other, stabbing each other in the back.

Chiaki.

Finding out the truth.

Makoto Naegi, Kyoko Kirigiri, and the _real_ Byakuya Togami, all survivors of the Killing School Life, coming to rescue them.

Graduating.

 

. . .

 

To find light, you have to already be in darkness.

* * *

He's not even fully awake before his arms shoot out, heart racing, mind reeling back from what felt like a really long dream. But instead of open space, his hands collide with something resting straight above him. It takes a few tries to get his eyes to open and stay open, and for a moment he wants to just not even try, but when he does, everything is just green.

Green?

His hands, still resting against the material above, slowly press against its surface, this time purposely trying to figure out what it was. His eyes, which were previously focused on his hands, trail upwards, until they land on a face imprinted on the glass, and he can't help but flinch; there's someone looming over whatever container he's in, staring at him. Just staring. Their right eye was green, a murkier color compared to the glass, while their left eye was a deep, crimson red. So deep, so full of things he didn't know, that he thought he'd get lost the second he stared into them. The most prominent thing, however, was this person's hair. This person had this odd contraption on their head, a sort of helmet, but those long, dark strands continued past their shoulders and all the way down to their waist.

Hajime opens his mouth to ask a question—

the figure behind the glass opens their mouth, too.

And at that moment, Hajime just  _knew_. He knew who he was looking at.

He should’ve already known who it was. But maybe he didn’t want to acknowledge it as the truth.

He shouldn't be surprised by anything at this point. He's seen so much the past few years during his time in despair (he feels so far from these memories, like they belong to someone else), and he's done some nasty things, too, but he can't help it. He lets out a scream, eyes widening in alarm, as the person behind the glass does the same. Trapped in the constricting place, his voice is merely tossed and echoed around, and suddenly it's so loud around him. Yet he doesn't stop screaming. His hands fly upwards towards his head, latching onto the helmet mounted against his cranium. The abrupt movement jostles the device, causing the wires that are connecting it to his head to shift. 

He pulls on the helmet, pulls until the wires strain against the force and tugs at his skull, before the device comes loose. The cables fall, crackling with odd, electrical sounds. He feels a warm liquid sliding down his skull. At first, he doesn't register the pain, but it's like a delayed reaction. Moments later, his entire head is stinging, making him hiss. It's uncomfortable, but not unbearable. He'll find a way to treat the wounds later.

He lets the helmet fall from his hands. It's then that he notices the thin, needle like wires running along his arms, under his sleeves. It's like those things that they have at hospitals, where they have to attach an IV bag to you and other medical things.

He has no time to dwell on this, however, so he yanks them out of his arm. He feels more liquid trail down his arms, hidden by his jacket and sleeves. Now free from any unwanted electronic devices, he can now focus on escaping the pod he's in.

. . .

Ah, wait, that's right. He's in a pod.

He remembers the moments before entering the Neo World program. A bunch of mumbo jumbo talk about how the program will work, what all the devices around them are for, what they're hoping the results will be. He remembers it closing on him, slowly, encasing him for however long the program was initially going to take. And then—

nothing.

. . .

 

_Slam._

Hajime blinks, yanked out of his thoughts. His left hand, now slightly numb in his fingers, was curled into a fist, and pressed against the green glass of the pod. He slowly brings it away. There's a small crack in the middle of the glass, right where he most likely slammed his fist against.

Huh. Could he get out like that? Maybe, if he hit hard enough, if he hit the glass enough times, it would break.

He barely registers himself lifting his left hand, once again clenched into a fist, prepared to ram it into the glassware. Yeah, if he does it, he'll get out!

Before he even gets a chance to start his extremely stupid, not-thought-out plan, the glass suddenly lifts up, like the lid of a jar. It sort of reminded him of those really old music boxes, the ones where you open them and beautiful music would start to play.

When the lid of the pod finally came to a stop, there was no music. Just the whirring of machinery, and these distant, sharp voices—multiple ones—barking at each other. He couldn't hear what they were saying, and, quite frankly, didn't care enough to try and listen. The pod was open. He was free.

His limb felt 10 times heavier as he forced himself to sit up. He knew he didn't sit up too fast, but the world around him still spun, colors and shapes and lines mixing together. It was still spinning as he swung his legs over the side of the pod, feet touching the ground, and pushed himself to his feet.

"Ah—!” His legs buckled from underneath him, causing him to crumple to the floor. They felt weak, like he hadn’t moved or exercised or ate for a month. Heaving, he leaned back against the side of the pod, taking in one shaky breath after the other, trying to calm his heart, which was now beating a mile a minute.

“I can’t . . . stand.” He whispered, almost dazed. He didn't recognize his own voice for a second. It was raspy, days of disuse clear, his throat parched and scratchy. It was also a tad bit deeper than it was in the program. Regardless, he coughed, trying to clear up his throat, but it only sent him into a coughing fit. He coughed and coughed and coughed, and for a moment it seemed like it would never end.

"He's over there!" a voice resonated from somewhere off to his right. It sounded like a boy who was in the middle of puberty, but not all the way past. "Kyoko, Byakuya, he's awake!" the boy exclaimed.

" _Makoto, careful-!_ "

" _They switched back to_ -"

Hajime tried to listen to what they were saying, but his ears were ringing. The world around him beginning to steady, looked up in the direction the voices came from. His hair fell in front of his face, obscuring his vision, but he still could see a figure kneeling down in front of him.

"Are you okay?" Makoto Naegi, the Ultimate Hope, said, concern spreading across his face. The emotion seemed so fresh, so real, that for a moment, Hajime didn't know how to respond.

Compared to inside the Neo World Program, the Makoto Naegi in front of him seemed a tad bit older; a few more wrinkles here and there, the evidence of stressful times, and dressed in a full suit rather than casual wear. But his eyes were still bright. Just as bright. Shinning.

"Hey . . . can you hear me?" Makoto waved a hand in front of him, hands hovering near Hajime’s face. "You’re bleeding,” he said. He was probably referring to the blood trailing down his face, starting from the depths of the roots of his hair.

”Uh . . . huh?”

 _Great way to start off the conversation_ , Hajime thought to himself, mentally cursing.

”Why did you take the wires out?” Makoto asked. His hands kept moving forward, as if wanting to reach out, but kept stopping before the went close. "If you had just waited, we would've came and helped you out!"

 _He said 'we'_ , he said to himself. We, as in Makoto and _other_ people. From what they were told during the final class trial, the Future Foundation was trying to kill them, and Makoto secretly snuck them away. If there was anyone with him, it wouldn't be anyone from that foundation. It would be-

"You an-" he paused, coughing out once more, before croaking, "you and those two? In the-the thing?"

". . . yeah," Makoto slowly responded. When Hajime looked him in the eyes, there was a something lingering there. He could feel a sudden sense of a caution fill the space around the other boy. "Why do you-"

Before he could continue his sentence, two more figures barged into the mini conversation they were having.

"Makoto, step away from him," a sharp, demanding voice commanded. Hajime followed the direction where the voice came from, and he was met with a young lady. Pale eyes, accompanied by long, lavender hair that brought out the colour. She had a pale complexion, like she had never been to a beach in her entire life, and her outfit consisted of a dark jacket worn over a long-sleeved, white blouse, a rather short black shirt, and heeled ankle-length boots. There was a purple ribbon tied near her ear on the left side of her face that led down into a braid. 

Their eyes connected, and he was met with pale, impassive eyes staring back.

"What are you staring at?" she questioned, tone accusing, like he had done something wrong. 

Her tone of voice made him quick to want to defend himself. "I-It's nothing," he rushed to say, throat still rough. She didn't seem to accept his answer, but she also didn't seem to want to converse with him any longer. She turned to Makoto and leaned down to his level, then whispered something in his ear. Despite keeping her voice low, Hajime could still hear what she was saying.

"You ignored our warnings."

A wince from Makoto. He turned his head to the side, angling it so Kyoko was speaking directly in his ear. "I'm sorry, I-I just wanted to check on him."

"They're dangerous. They turned back to Ultimate Despair."

". . ." The boy frowned, sneaking a peak back at Hajime, who was now just staring at the two. "I don't think he's gonna harm us," he muttered back to Kyoko, who merely shook her head.

"Did you forget what would happen when we initiated the shutdown sequence?" She didn't wait for a response. She pulled away and straightened up, regarding Hajime one more time, before turning around and walking away. She didn't seem to move far in the room, the sound of her footsteps only lasting about five seconds. With her out of his sight, he turned his attention to the other boy she first walked over with; the  _real_ Byakuya Togami.

Standing tall, arms crossed, he regarded Hajime coolly, like he was some kind of vermin.

"Makoto, are you done kneeling down and doing nothing?" He sounded just like he did in the program, and just like the Imposter. "Get up." His gaze landed on Hajime. "Both of you. There's no time to sit here and chatter."

"Sorry," Makoto murmured, smiling up at the boy sheepishly. He got to his feet with ease, and Hajime moved to do the same. He still felt like he would fall after one step, but he wouldn't be the only one sitting. Before he had a chance to stand, an extended hand was in front of him.

He looked up at Makoto, the owner of said hand, who was smiling reassuring at him, and expectantly. Grateful for the gesture, Hajime gladly accepted the hand. He was pulled to his feet.

The world spun, as expected, dark spots dancing around his vision. He gripped Makoto's hand, who in turn helped steady him. 

"Ugh, I think I'm gonna throw up," he mumbled truthfully, his head spinning and his stomach churning painfully. He couldn't see the floor in front of him, but maybe that was mainly due to his hair.

”Don’t,” Byakuya snapped. “If you do, you’ll be responsible for cleaning it up, and we won’t be helping.”

Hajime had a feeling that he wasn’t lying, so he nodded and willed his stomach to keep in line.

”Hmph,” the Ultimate Affluent Progeny huffed. “Let’s get going, then. I’d hate for another unanticipated situation to occur.”

Hajime arched an eyebrow. “Un . . . anticipated?” he asked. Investigating and working through the trials in the Neo World Program taught him to pick up on every little thing.

But Byakuya just waved off his question. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.” He turned and began walking towards the outer walls of the room, where a big double door sat. Makoto moved forward as well, forcing Hajime to follow.

”W-Wait, stop,” he said, though the three of them didn’t slow their pace. “What about everyone else?” he asked. He glanced back, catching a glimpse of the other pods—he could see the outline of his friends, resting inside—before they stepped through the doorway, and the view of the room disappeared.

 Byakuya let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, them? They won't be waking up anytime soon, so feel free to remove them from your conscience for a while."

"Byakuya," Makoto scolded, but didn't say anything else on the matter, which made Hajime worry. Wasn't he going to say something like, " _They'll wake up soon!_ ", or, " _Don't listen to him_ ,"? Anything to contradict the vile words the taller man said?

Or maybe, he didn't say anything . . . because it was _true_? It was true that none of them were going to wake up soon.

But-

but he did! He just woke up! He's awake, and moving, and talking and breathing and being  _alive_.

"They'll wake up soon," he whispered under his breath. "I know they are."

He thought he was being pretty quiet, but Makoto turned and glanced at him, smiling, a twinkle in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but the look was enough to convey his words.

After 10 minutes of slow-paced walking through the halls and up a few sets of stairs (Makoto apologized profusely by the time they made it to the right floor), they finally stopped in front of a door. There wasn't anything special about it to comment on. It looked just about the same as every other door they passed on the way. Makoto, still supporting Hajime with one arm, reach into his pocket with the other and fished out what appeared to be a key. He held it out to Byakuya, who took it and inserted it into the lock on the door. There was a  _click_ , then he turned the handle and the door swung open.

Byakuya stepped into the room first. "You'll be resting here for now," he said, not turning back to check if they followed. "You're lucky. These are one of the better rooms in the building."

 _Lucky, huh_ , Hajime thought to himself as he entered the room with Makoto's help.

The room wasn't anything special, either, but it  _was_ pretty big. A kitchen on the left side of the room, a seating-area on the left, with two couches and a glass table. The wall opposite of the door had a window that started from one end and stretched all the way to the other, allowing the maximum of light to enter. The brightness hurt his eyes for a split second, but he quickly adjusted. He stared out the glass, and saw . . . an island, in the distance.

An island.

His feet seemed to move by itself, as if they had a separate mind of their own. Makoto, who seemingly knew where he wanted to go, helped him move towards the window. Within a few feet of it, Hajime reached out and touched the smooth, clear glass.

"What are you doing?" Byakuya questioned. But Hajime didn't answer.

He pressed himself closer to the glass, eyes squinting against the light, trying to see the scenery the outside.

The central island was resting far in the distance, a bridge connecting from there to here, the island he was on. To the right, he could see the--the _library_?  _And the dinner_?

"What is it?" He could feel Makoto's eyes on him. He didn't respond agan.

He was on the second island of Jabberwock Island.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me more than a week to write, and it's not edited either. So updates may be slow, depending on how much I write a day (.3.) Apologies!


	2. Say Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s alone when they leave.
> 
>  
> 
> But by the end of the day, he isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ACCIDENTALLY PRESSED "POST WITHOUT PREVIEW" AND I POSTED THIS WITHOUT FINISHING WHOOPS
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, now it's actually done! I'm working on trying to lengthen my chapters. Considering the story line I have in mind, fully flushing out everything, and the fandom in general, having around 3000 words per chapter won't accomplish anything. Hopefully you'll enjoy that!
> 
>  
> 
> Edit #2: i kinda rushed this chapter because i had somewhere to be but i realy wanted to include something else so i did.  
> deal with it.  
> enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Edit#3: OKAY NOW ITS ACTUALLY COMPLETE

* * *

"Here you go," Makoto said, smiling reassuringly, as he handed Hajime a bowl of soup. "Sorry, there wasn't much in the fridge. Besides, I don't think your stomach can hold any solid foods anyways."

"Thank you," Hajime muttered in response and accepted the bowl being held towards him. The glass bowl itself was hot, heated up by the scorching soup within, so he set it down on the coffee table in front of him. He didn't feel like burning his mouth at the moment, especially after just waking up, so he would wait until the broth cooled down before daring to take a sip.

Makoto sat down beside him, his own bowl of soup in his hands, while Byakuya sat on the chair to the left of the couch, holding a mug in his left. After his odd movements and strong desire to see what laid outside the window, Makoto gently ordered him to sit on the couch while he and Byakuya readied something to eat. Everything that came after looking out the window was a blur until the bowl of soup was offered to him. He didn't know why he wanted to see outside so badly.

Maybe it was the sunlight shining through. When he pressed himself against the glass, it felt so . . . nice. He could feel the warmth spreading across his skin, the bright light burning his eyes, and it felt so  _real_. The memories of the NWP were still fresh in his mind; he could still remember the (artificial) sunlight, the breeze, the food they ate, and so much more. But now, all those memories, they felt fake. It made him wonder how he was fooled by such technology, when the real thing felt so much . . . realer.

His stomach growled, reminding him of the food in front of him (and the fact that he was pretty hungry). He picked up his bowl of soup, which was now cooler than before (there wasn't a significant change in temperature, but he was now able to hold without feeling the effects of the heated substance). He picked up the metal spoon, poking around at the miniscule pieces of meat and vegetables floating around the surface. He scooped up a spoonful and held it up to his mouth, sipping slowly. It was pleasantly warm in his mouth, and tasted pretty good considering the small time it was made in. It filled his stomach after a few spoonfuls.

"So we're on Jabberwock Island?" he said, carefully setting and holding the bowl in his lap. He had never been a fan of eating in silence, and he had a few questions in mind for the two other men in the room. Hopefully they could answer them. He knew they could.

Makoto let out a sigh, sounding relieved. Maybe he was happy for the break of silence? "Yeah, this is Jabberwock Island. We took you guys here on that boat, since the machine for the Neo World Program was here. I guess it's been a while, you were in the program for about three weeks."

"Three weeks," Hajime echoed slowly, before taking another sip of his soup.

"Yeah, three weeks," Makoto confirmed.

"Unfortunately, there were a few complications, and we were forced to shutdown the whole thing," Byakuya added as he set his mug down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Complications?"

Makoto nodded, his light expression dropping into something more solemn. "There was an unknown virus uploaded into the program. It went undetected by our security system, and it caused some major damage. We had to shut the down the program to prevent any harm from coming to you or your friends."

All of this, Hajime already knew. It was explained to him and the others so many times, until it was drilled into their brains and the chance of forgetting was impossible. So why was he listening to this all over again?

"How long were we in the program before you shut it down?" Was he testing the two? Perhaps trying to see if they would lie about anything? "How long did it take for you to find the virus?"

"So many questions," he heard Byakuya say, shaking his head in disdain. "You were all in the program for about 3 weeks before we were able to shut down the system. We already found the virus you uploaded early on in the experiment, but it prevented us from being able to change anything."

Eyes widening, he shakily put the nearly-empty bowl of soup on the table. He nearly missed what Byakuya said, that small part about _him_ being the one who uploaded the virus. Of course, everyone had found out that piece of information. Maybe it was the knowledge that because of him, everything came crashing down.

"O-Oh," he muttered when he realized that their eyes were on him, struggling to form an excuse. "So--so you found out." Why was he choosing to act like he didn't remember everything that happened in the Neo World Program? 

"Of course we found out," Byakuya said, scoffing, like the idea of them  _not_ finding out was some absurd remark. "The virus wasn't very well hidden, but it was incredibly hard to dispose of."

"So her plan-- _our_ plan," he hastily corrected himself, "it failed?"

At the mention of the plan, both Byakuya and Makoto's gazes turned hard. He could understand the look on the Ultimate Affluent Progeny's expression, but the look on Makoto's face didn't suit him. Not one bit.

Nobody bothered to answer the question, or to bring up some other topic to fill in the silence settling over them once more. Understandable, Hajime supposed. After all their efforts into making the Neo World Program, and having the participants then unanimously agree to die in order try to bring back  _the_ Junko Enoshima (and almost succeeding), it's no surprise they'd be sour over him and his friends.

Byakuya stood up all of a sudden, surprising the two other people in the room. He brushed himself off, smoothing off any wrinkles in his jacket. "I'm leaving. We have no time for such idle chit-chat. Must I remind you, Makoto, that we still have the Future Foundation to deal with?" Makoto shook his head and opened his mouth to respond, but Byakuya spoke once more before he had the chance. "When you are finished with whatever it is you plan to accomplish here, you are free to join me and Kyoko in the administrative building."

"The administrative building?" Hajime questioned. Didn't Sonia mention something about that, in the library?

Byakuya turned his steely gaze onto him. "Yes, but that piece of information doesn't concern you. I will not allow you or your friends to draw near the other islands. You will all remain here."

"W-What?" Hajime sputtered, genuinely shock and confused. "Why?"

"Is it not obvious?"

"Byakuya," Makoto said, a strange tone in his voice, but the Ultimate Affluent Progeny either didn't catch it, or chose to ignore it. It's unlikely that someone like him would miss something, so Hajime went with the latter.

"To be frank, I don't trust you," Byakuya continued anyways. "And neither should my colleague, but he does, thanks to his ingenuous personality."

"I don't . . . know what that means," Hajime heard Makoto murmur quietly, most likely not intending to be heard.

Byakuya shrugged, and began heading to the door. "Can you blame us? Especially after all you did, I'm surprised I allowed myself to situated in the same room as one of you for more than a minute." He didn't seem to want to wait for a response. He let himself out of the room, the door shutting quietly behind him. The two men left in the room listened as his footsteps retreated, getting quieter and quieter, until they couldn't hear anything else besides their own breathing.

Hajime sighed, eyes focusing on his dark shoes. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't thought about what he was wearing at all. He stared at his shoes, which were honestly clean and nearly shining, but felt worn, as if they had been used for years. Their near perfect condition felt out of place. It's either that he managed to keep them so tidy all these years, or some sort of magic. Moving on from his feet, his eyes trailed up the rest of his outfit; black loafers, jacket, and tie, and a white dress shirt. The whole appeal of the outfit had him feeling oddly professional. When he was . . .  _that_ person, did he wear this outfit everyday? Did it also never occur to that other person to get a haircut every once in a while?

He huffed, brushing away a huge strand of hair that had fallen in front of his face, obscuring his vision once more. How could anyone walk around like this, even  _if_ they were someone so talented?

"I'm sorry about him," he heard Makoto say, drawing his attention back up to the other man. "Though, I can't say I blame him for acting like that."

He nodded, choosing to remain silent.

"The Hope Restoration Program seemed like the right thing to do," Makoto continued on, seeing as Hajime didn't have a desire to say anything back. "If we could change you guys back, then maybe we could tip the scale of the fight between Hope and Despair. But when the virus started to warp the program, and you guys started--" he paused, paling slightly, before quickly regaining his composure, "and you guys were in harm's way, there wasn't any choice but to shut the whole thing down. Even if it meant that whatever progress made would be deleted, and you would just revert back into Ultimate Despair."

 _But that isn't what happened, right?_   Hajime asked himself. Because here he was. He remembered everything.

"When the program was shut down, there was a chance that none of you would wake up," Makoto said, setting his half-full bowl on the table, next to Hajime's empty one. He looked up at him, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a small smile. "But maybe that isn't the case, 'cause here you are."

"Why are you happy that we're awake?" Hajime suddenly blurted out. The question was a spur of the moment, and he didn't think about what he just said until the words came out of his mouth. "I'm Ultimate Despair, right? Aren't I . . . dangerous? Why aren't you doing anything?"

He didn't miss the stunned expression that settled on Makoto's face after the questions. Such morbid questions, especially after such a cheery remark. He didn't mean to dampen the mood (at least, whatever mood was in the air at the moment), but now that he asked, he actually wanted to know.

Makoto broke eye contact, gaze trailing towards the window on the other side of the room.

"I don't think that's the case," he finally said, after a few more seconds of silence.

That earned a puzzled look from Hajime. "What? What do you mean?"

". . ." Makoto slowly turned to face him, narrowing his eyes. His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if trying and continuously failing to find the right words. "Can I . . . ask you a question?" he finally asked after a moment.

"Uh, sure."

A few more seconds of silence. Then, "What's your name?"

Hajime tilts his head to the side, arching an eyebrow. His name? It's such an odd thing to ask, and so out of place. Wouldn't he already know?

"It's Hajime," he decided to answer anyway. "Hajime Hinata." What was Makoto expecting him to say? It wasn't like he had 10 different names or something, he was only himself, only Hajime Hinata. Only . . .

 _Izuru Kamukura_. 

His eyes widened when he realized his fatal mistake. He went into the program as Izuru Kamukura, and was expected to come out the same. Any memories of being Hajime Hinata should've never been remembered.

He opened his mouth, trying to come up with some kind of excuse (why was he pretending, anyway? What would he gain from posing himself as an Ultimate Despair, besides distrust?). But for some reason, the other man merely stared back, a knowing look glistening in his eyes.

"To answer your question," Makoto began when Hajime didn't seem to think of anything, "I don't think Ultimate Despair would sit down and have a talk with me."

". . ."

"Would someone with the title,  _the Remnant of Despair_ , have a chat with someone with the title of,  _the Ultimate Hope_?" he asked. "Even if it's your friends who are more active, I don't think someone like that would pass up an opportunity."

"Well, what if I'm just waiting for the right time?" Hajime shot back. "I'm really weak right now. What if I'm just waiting until I get stronger?"

"For someone as  _talented_ as you, I don't doubt that you could kick my butt, even in your current state," Makoto responded easily in return. "If I'm wrong, however . . ." he trailed off, leaving Hajime to fill in the blanks.

He must be a really bad actor or something for Makoto to figure him out so easily, or that Makoto had a good eye for spotting things like that. But in the end, he felt sort of relieved that he was figured out so soon. Makoto's reaction didn't seem too dramatic, not that he expected anything like that. What he meant is that it wasn't too negative. He relaxed his tense shoulders, which he didn't realize were so wound up until now, and slouched a bit more into the couch.

"So, what happens now?" he asked. It didn't occur to him what would be coming after he had woken up. Plus, he wanted to talk about something else besides himself.

"Well, first we wait until you get better," Makoto said, taking the sudden turn of conversation as a cue to stand up. He picked up the two bowls and headed to the kitchen. "You guys received nutrients and liquids through a vein, which is why you aren't dead after 3 weeks of being asleep. But you haven't gotten any real food or exercise during that time, so you probably feel pretty weak right now."

"How long will that take?"

"However long you need," Makoto replied.

"And then after?"

"I didn't think that far ahead," he admitted with a laugh. He put the bowls in the sink and leaned forward to rest his arms on the kitchen counter. "What do you want to do?"

Hajime shook his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I didn't think that far ahead," he joked. Makoto seemed like more of a joking person compared to his two colleagues.

To his surprise, and delight, Makoto did let out a small chuckle. "Well, it seems like we're both bad at planning ahead. Luckily, I have Kyoko to help me with that."

At that moment, a sound rang throughout the room. Makoto dug a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a phone. Swiping a finger across the screen, tapping a few times, then he pushed himself away from the kitchen counter and stood up. He sighed, looking regretful. Hajime, alerted, sat up straighter and shot a questioning look at him.

"Is something wrong?"

Makoto was quick to reassure him. "Ah, no, it's nothing. Byakuya and Kyoko just need my help with something." He took a step towards the door, but for some reason, he looked hesitant to leave. He glanced over at Hajime, and immediately said person knew what the look meant.

"You don't have to worry about me," Hajime said. "I'll be fine by myself."

"It's not . . . are you sure? What if you need something?"

"I can manage." He paused. "Go do what you have to do."

"Thank you, sorry for leaving so soon," Makoto said, smiling almost gratefully. "Oh, before I forget!" He reached into his other pants pocket and pulled out a key, the same one he used to open the door. He tossed it over to Hajime. "Here are the keys. This is  _your_ room, after all."

"Ah, thanks." He focuses his attention on his newly acclaimed item, which is not interesting at all. A simple silver colour with a room number. He hears the handle being turn, the click of the door after a few seconds, then the fading footsteps that moved further and to the left of the hallway. He listens, strains his ears to hear, until, like they did with Byakuya, there was nothing left to listen to.

He’s now fully alone when the other man leaves (which is pretty much the case when everyone except you exits the room), and he finds the sudden loneliness extremely uncomfortable. He doesn't feel like he's in danger or anything, but it's just that he's always been around others (i _ ~~n the simulation, that is~~_ ). His friends, smiling and laughing and attempting to enjoy their ‘lives’, despite the killings and the decrease in members every few days. Even Usami and Monokuma were around most of the time, occasionally filling in the void with random information when he was exploring something new. The only moments where he was by himself was when he went back to his cottage to sleep, and when he woke up the next morning. Even then, he spent very little time in the small space before meeting up with everyone else. Being alone like this was . . . _different_ , to put it lightly. It wasn't something he particularly enjoyed during times like this.

He didn't know what he was planning to do when Makoto left, perhaps take a nap and rest his feet, but he feels so restless. He was determined to accomplish something else that day besides sitting down and doing nothing.

His plans were almost thrown away as soon as he pushed himself to his feet. His vision swarmed, the colors and shapes around him blurring together, while his stomach lurched, almost painfully, and his legs were shaking so badly he thought he was going to collapse before he even took one step. Everything bone in his body just felt 10 times more heavier.

 _Deep breath, deep breath_ , he told himself, but each breath he took was sharp and quick, barely assisting in calming his cloudy head. Clenching his hands into fists, he stood there, motionless, waiting until everything around him stopped spinning, until his legs stopped shaking so much.

After an unknown amount of time, the black spots clouding his vision faded, and the quiver in his legs ceased; it didn't stop completely, but it lessened enough that he could move without falling over. Testing the waters, he lifted his right foot and took a step forward. The action caused a shudder to run through his body. He really  _shouldn't_ be up and moving about, especially if taking a single step caused him to react like that.

But still. He couldn't just sit in this room and do _nothing_. He's made it one step, he can manage another. Maybe it was about eight more steps to the door, four if he took bigger strides.

Taking it steady, he slowly made his way over to the door, doing his best to push through the discomfort each step brought. He reached out and grabbed the doorknob, his grip lacking the strength he thought he had. Turning the knob, he pulled the door open. He held onto the door frame and peered outside the room, glancing left and right.

Besides the doors aligned along the walls, the hallway was empty, not another person in sight. He thought that there would be someone else wandering the hall, perhaps another Future Foundation member, but it was just him. He thought it was odd, but he chose to dismiss the concern in his mind. The Future Foundation was a pretty big organization, after all. They were probably extremely busy, and didn't have any time to spare, no matter how minuscule.

He stepped out into the hallway and quietly shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it as well. He put the key in his pocket, and, once he knew it was secure and wouldn't fall out, he began to make his way towards the staircase he first walked up from. Seriously, would it hurt the Future Foundation's budget to add an elevator to their buildings?

He propped himself against the wall, thankful for something to lean on, and trudged through the corridor. It was rather dim, the only source of illumination coming from the utility lights lined up, one after the other, over him. It was a deep contrast compared to the natural sunlight, which was also a room away. The glow of the lights hurt his eyes, so he refrained from tilting his head up too high.

Pace slow, steps small, he eventually reached the staircase without falling other, though he did have to pause a few times to catch his breath. Unlike before, he didn't have someone to support him and take some of his weight off his feet. Walking down the steps was significantly easier, no doubt about that, but it still seemed like a challenge in his current state.

Carefully setting one foot in front of the other, one step after another, he made his way down as best he could. He was heavily relying on the handrail that was so gratefully implemented, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were turning a shade of white. Down each set of stairs, he stumbled on the last step at the bottom of the stairway and tumbled to his knees. Sharp pain burst through his kneecaps at the impact, causing him to cry out and his breathing to quicken its pace. Planting both hands on the ground, holding himself up, he waited for the rush of pain to subside.

The sound of footsteps rang throughout the hall. For a moment his heart froze, and he knew he needed to get up. Steadying his hands, he tried to force the rest of his body to obey and stand.

The footsteps came closer and closer, before the sound abruptly ceased. A pair of boots was in front of him, one or two feet away. Tilting his head up, standing there, he saw the one and only Ultimate Detective.

"You shouldn't be walking around," she simply stated, arms crossed over her chest. The expression on her face was impassive as usual, carefully crafted to be that way. She didn't offer to help as he struggled to his feet. She just stood there and watched.

"I-I didn't feel like it," he forced out. He must've looked pretty pathetic at the moment, saying that he didn't want to stay and rest while he was clearly fighting to get back up.

"You should be resting." She took a step back, allowing him for some room. He reached out somewhere behind him with his right hand until his fingers brushed against the railing of the steps. He turned himself around and latched onto it with both hands and used it as leverage to pull himself up.

As he straightened to his full height, as best he could, he could see he had a few inches on Kyoko, about two or three. But despite the height difference, he could feel wave after wave of authority radiating around her.

"Well, what about you?" he questioned.

"I can walk perfectly fine."

"N-No, not that," he said, sighing. "Aren't you suppose to be with Byakuya? I thought you two needed him for something."

Her stony expression immediately shifted into suspicion. "How do you know about that?"

"Makoto said that," he was quick to say. "He got a few messages on his phone, and then he said you two needed help with something. Then he left."

"Telling you such information, that  _is_ something Makoto would do," Kyoko noted. Her expression didn't change. "But that doesn't explain why you're here and not in your room."

"I just-I just wanted to explore the place."

The way she regarded him told him that she believed anything but. "Or . . . you wanted to obtain some information about the Future Foundation." He opened his mouth to deny it, but she beat him to it. "After hearing that all three of us would be occupied, you wanted to take the chance to search around the place and perhaps find some useful information. Is that it?"

The amount of distrust in her voice shocked him to the point that he forgot how to speak for a few seconds. "What?! No, that's not it!" he exclaimed when he finally found his voice. "I'm not going to do something like that."

She took another step back from him, then turned and headed over to the room with all the pods; the room where they put everyone into the Neo World Program. He called out to her, asking what she was doing, but she didn't respond.

He huffed, having no choice but to follow the lavender-haired woman. He pushed himself away from the staircase, laying a hand against the wall, and slowly followed in her footsteps. The door to the room itself was a simple double door. No locks, no keypad with some code, no guards station on either side. By the time he pushed open the door, and stepped inside, Kyoko was moving past him and leaving the room. Whatever she had came in here to do, she seemed to have already finished it. He shouted again, trying to get her attention, but she was already walking up the steps.

 _What's with her?_   he wondered, but she wasn't around to answer anymore. It wasn't like she would answer, anyway.

And before he knew it, he was stumbling his way towards the green cases that contained his friends. He reached out to the only open pod,  _his_ , and leaned over it, studying the inside. The stray wires and needles were still resting at the bottom, a few drops of blood mainly around the upper part of the pod. The helmet that was on his head laid near the very top, no lights blinking, dead to the world. The wires coming from the top of the device led outside the pod, tangled on the ground, eventually coming to the center of the room. There were multiple monitors along the weirdly shaped center, each displaying nothing but white. The one connected to his, however, was dark.

He moved away from the monitors and back over to his pod. On his right was the Ultimate Impostor, disguised as Byakuya Togami. He looked just the same as he did in the program, though a little less big. On his right was Kazuichi, and-what the hell was his outfit? He looked completely different; black gloves, his signature beanie discarded, letting his messy, pink hair free. He still had his green jumpsuit though. The familiarity of the outfit made Hajime relax slightly.

Everyone else was in similar states; extravagant outfits that looked impossible to move around in (how on earth did Sonia fit in there?). The only people who actually looked normal were Mahiru and Nagito; the Ultimate Photographer had on a simple shirt and brown shorts, and black running shoe, while the Ultimate Lucky Student was wearing the exact same thing he wore in the program. His left arm, however, seemed out of place.

He passed by the Ultimate Yakuza's pod. He still had an eyepatch over his right eye, oddly enough. The clan symbol was a swirl of fire, a dragon, curling around almost the entirety of the fabric. He did look a tad bit older, but he still had that child-like face.

When he stopped near Akane's pod, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened almost comically. But there wasn't anything funny about what he saw.

Akane was so thin, the outline of her bones incredibly clear. She was so emaciated, it looked as if she couldn't even support her own weight if she tried to stand. If it weren't for the rise and fall of her chest, he thought he would've mistaken her as dead. He pictured the Akane in the program, her curvaceous physique, always running around and searching for someone to fight.

 _This can't be right,_ he told himself, because it clearly couldn't be. Akane loved eating, loved fighting, what would cause her to become like this?

He leaned forward, placing his hand against the green glass, studying her gaunt face. And for a moment, he felt . . . anger. Not at Akane, not at Junko Enoshima, but at  _himself_. Anger so strong, burning like a thousand suns, fire liquid coursing through his veins. He felt like this, all of it, the end of the world, was his fault in a way.

He leaned forward even more, low enough to place his forehead against the pod. "I'm sorry," he whispered, as if talking to her. As if she could hear him. "I'm sorry." He rested his head against the container for a few moments longer, before reluctantly moving away.

His head snapped to the left when a loud _thump_ rang out from the left side of the room.

Did he—did he actually hear that? Or was his mind trying to fill in the emptiness that surrounded him? Or perhaps it was Kyoko, or one of the other 2, coming in to check on him. That girl most likely told Byakuya and Makoto what he was doing. It wasn’t a stretch to say that they were the ones who made that noise.

But why wasn’t there any other sounds afterwards?

”. . . hello?” he called out as he began to make his way towards the other side of the room, where the door was. Leaving Akane’s pod, he passed by Nekomaru’s, Ibuki’s, Teruteru’s, Sonia’s, Nagi—

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a fist punched against the glass of Sonia’s pod, from the _inside_. Two hands, continuously slamming against the glass, desperately.

Shaking off the surprise, he quickly moved back to her pod. And there she was, inside. Panicking. Her eyes were wide, mouth open in what looked like a scream. And then she did start screaming, the sound slightly muffled.

”S-Sonia!” he cried out. He shifted himself so that he was directly leaning over her face, but she didn’t seem to register him.  She kept twisting and turning, struggling to get out of the space. He could see the wires straining and being moved about, a few dots of blood beginning to form as the needles were yanked out.

How could he get her to stop? At this rate, she would end up just like he had. And he hadn’t even cleaned up his own wounds, now that he thought about it. There had to be some way to open the pod.

He was planning on going over to the centre, where all the monitors were situated at, when the lid of the pod suddenly opened with a _hiss_.

“Sonia!” he shouted again. He trudged back to the pod, pushing away the puffy layers of her dress in an attempt to reach her. Her eyes were wide, glazed over, some sort of horrified look plastered on her face. He reached out and snatched her wrist, holding her flailing arms, and yelled her name once more.

“. . . H-Hajime?” he heard her say, voice barely above a whisper. His shoulders sagged in relief, grip loosening, now just simply holding her wrists. “What . . . —“ she lifted her arms, which waved the wires around.

”Don’t move,” he ordered, to which she complied, going limp. “The wires, I think the machines removes them? Anyways, just don’t try to take them out.” At least, that’s what Makoto said, right? Something along the lines of letting the machine do it’s thing. He eyed the trails of blood that ran down her arms from her previous struggles.

Sonia nodded and let her head fall back to rest on the surface she was laying on. He let go of her wrist, and she held them to her chest, rubbing circles into them.

The two of them fell into silence while they waited for the machine to do whatever it had to do to let Sonia out safely. It took a few minutes for the wires in her arms to retract, and then a few more until another _hiss_ rang throughout the room, and the helmet dropped from her head. Sonia shakily raised a hand up to her hair, running her fingers across her scalp. She pulled them away, and the tips of her finger were covered with red.

”Can you stand?” Hajime asked Sonia as she say up. She winced and held a hand to her forehead, her face contorting with pain.

”I-I do not know,” she rasped. She coughed, trying to clear her throat, and swung her legs over the side of the pod (more like swung her dress, you could barely see her legs beneath it). He stepped back to give her ( ~~ _dress_~~ ) some room.

Sonia was also thin, but not in an unhealthy way like Akane. He held out his arm for her to lean on, but immediately regretted it when she put almost all her weight on him. The result of it was that both of them tumbled to the ground, the Ultimate Princess pulling Hajime down.

”A-Ah!"

”Are you okay?!” he asked her. She nodded, but he could see her trembling, her entire body shaking. She started making these weird, choked off noises, and when he heard the first sniffle, that’s when he realized she was crying.

Big, fat tears collected in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She attempted to wipe them away, but more just took their places. She was sobbing, trying to hold everything in, but it was futile. Her cries were raw, each one making her shake from the force of it.

”I c-cannot believe it,” she said between sobs. Her hands covered her eyes, giving up on trying to clear the tears from them. “I did—the things I have done, t-they are . . !” She was cut off by another cry wracking her body.

Hajime did what he could only think of. He gently placed a hand on her back, ignoring the flinch, and ran his hand back and forth, trying to calm her down. He could feel oh bad she was shaking, and it almost made him want to pull away, but he forced himself to stay. At first, she twisted away from his touch, but eventually began to lean into it

He had seen Sonia cry many times before, but he had never seen her like  _this;_ so dejected, so crushed. He wracked his mind trying to think of something to say, to make her feel better, but nothing came up. He couldn't do anything.

". . ." Sonia let go of him and leaned back on her knees. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, the tears soaking into her pristine, white gloves. "I-I apologize for my outburst," she whispered, finally looking him in the eyes. "It was incredibly rude of me to show you such a display of emotions." Her voice was miraculously steady. It was like she wasn't even crying in the first place, but the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and out gave it away.

"You don't have to apologize," he replied, shaking his head. "Do you think you can try to stand again?"

There was a brief moment where she didn't move. "I do not know," she quietly admitted. Hajime stood up first, making sure to grip the side of the pod before offering his hand to her. Her eyes darted from his hand to his face, seemingly hesitant to accept the outstretched palm. When she eventually reached out and took it, he helped pull her to her feet.

Her extremely extravagant outfit was crinkled in multiple places by now. The flowers were crushed, pushed back against the dress when she leaned on them, her tiara was dangerously tilting to one side of her head, and her gloves were sliding down her arms a bit. Her hair was a bit tangled here and there, but it was nothing a quick brush could fix.

"Hajime, do you remember?" Sonia asked him as he began to lead her to the exit of the room. Her tone was oddly blank.

"Remember? You mean . . . the Neo World Program?"

"Our friends," she clarified. "My memories, they did not disappear. I remember everything. Why everybody . . . did what they have done."

"Yeah, I remember, too."

". . . do you know why we have fallen into despair?" He stopped in his tracks by one of the pods. Why they fell into despair? He didn't know about their reasons. He wasn't with them a whole lot throughout the Tragedy, really. But-what about himself? Why did  _he_ fall into despair?

. . .

He turned his head away so that Sonia couldn't see his face. "It's . . . I don't know-"

They both jumped, gazes snapping to the left, when another sound came from the left side of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am incapable of writing dialogue good .3.
> 
> kinda rushed again, sorry!! 
> 
> I also don't know what order everyone's gonna wake up in .3.


End file.
